mind, for drawing a veil over infirmi ties which must be regarded as the offspring of a wounded spirit, and a deranged intellect. From his childhood, indeed, Barry appears to have possessed a large share of vanity and presumption, and an irascibility of temper nearly unexampled. This entire confidence in his own strength and abilities naturally engendered a contempt for those of his contemporaries, and led him to grasp at more than he could compass. Eminence in any particular art or science appeared too confined a field for the extensive range of his ambition. He wished to excel in all, and, as too frequently happens in similar cases, skimmed the surface of every thing, and made himself master of nothing; so that those powers which, if steadily employed on one pursuit, might have ensured him the highest excellence, were frittered away, and rendered unproductive, by the multiplicity of objects to which they were directed. The fatal effects of this unfortunate versatility were early foreseen by Mr Burke; but the evil was already too deeply-rooted to admit of remedy, even from the mild warnings of that profound searcher in

to human nature.

"You," (says this great man,)" whose letter would be the best direction in the world to any other painter, want none yourself from me, who know little of the matter. But as you were always indulgent enough to bear my humour under the name of advice, you will permit me now, my dear Barry, once more to wish you, in the beginning at least, to contract the circle of your studies. The extent and rapidity of your mind carries you to too great a diversity of things, and to the completion of a whole, before you are quite master of the parts, in a degree equal to the dignity of your ideas. This disposition arises from a generous impatience, which is a fault almost characteristic of great genius. But it is a fault, nevertheless, and one which, I am sure, you will correct when you consider that there is a great deal of mechanic in your profession, in which, however, the distinctive part of the art consists, and without which the first ideas can only make a good critic-not a painter. Vol. i. p. 87.**

The sage advice of this most excel lent friend, though united with that of Richard and William Burke, appears to have been disregarded. Bar

ry, indeed, frequently acknowledges the truth of their admonitions with gratitude and humility; but without allowing them to make any alteration, either in his habits or his disposition. He still continued to persevere in his old course, and though not insensible to the kind instructions of his patron, seemed daily to be departing in practice from them more and more widely. Without judgment and discrimination, he struck into his own devious rout, from which he could not be persuaded to depart; but he followed it with vigorous footsteps; and though it failed of conducting him to the ultimate object of his pursuit, he made many discoveries in his wanderings, which, if properly noticed, may serve as landmarks to guide others into the unerring road, which it was his hard fate to approach but never to attain. The singularity of his opinions, and his rough and violent manners, joined to the unhappy irritability of his disposition, created him many enemies, even in the commencement of his career; yet it ought to be remembered to his advantage, that he probably owed the larger proportion of his foes as much to that lofty independence of character, which could admit of no compromise between feeling and interest, as to his individual frailties. What he felt strongly he strongly expressed-in a manner often unjustifiable, and generally too incautious for his own welfare and repose. This threw him into the power of his opponents, who, well aware of the superiority of his understanding, set themselves to discover the weaknesses of his character, and quickly learned to play upon his most prominent de fects. Under such circumstances, it is melancholy to observe how unconscious Barry always seems to have been of the real nature of his situation, and the fatal consequences to which a perseverance in such conduct must inevi tably lead. It never occurred to him that his own forbidding manners might have a share in promoting the neglect and aversion which he expe rienced; and he was even so blind to the defects of his disposition, that he actually appeared to consider himself as having reached the acme of pa tience and forbearance.

"It is a great pity that he (Hussey) did not perceive the possibility of gathering roses out of that path which his enemies sowed with thorns for him. Of this I am so clearly convinced, that had I a friend or brother to send here, and could have any dependance upon the strength and firmness of his mind, I would wish him, of all things, to be thrown into the same situation that I have experienced, where his mind might grow strong by the exercise opposition will give him; and his conduct require to be so guarded and watched as to give opportunity to weed out all the asperities of his disposition. His knowledge of men and the world would be much, and the knowledge of his profession more. All these advantages may be had in such a situation as you know well; and it has been my endeavour to turn it to as good an account as my portion of ability would allow." -Vol. i. p. 171.

That a man, who could think and write in this manner, should, during his whole life, have neglected to adopt the precepts which he so strongly appreciated, and so judiciously enforced, is indeed to be lamented; but Barry I was irreclaimable. His early vanity and turbulence of spirit were strengthened by the obstacles which he encountered in his progress; his temper became gradually hardened by opposiition; the advice of his friends daily reached his heart with increased difficulty; and even the salutary admonitions of Mr Burke, contained in the following most beautiful and prophetic warning, appear to have shared a similar fate.

"Until very lately, I had never heard any thing of your proceedings from others; and when I did, was much less than I had known from yourself that you had been upon ill terms with the artists and virtuosi in Rome without much mention of cause or consequence. If you have improved these unfortunate quarrels to your advancement in your art, you have turned a very disagreeable circumstance to a very capital advantage. However, you may have succeeded in this uncommon attempt, permit me to suggest to you, with that friendly liberty which you have always had the goodness to bear from me, that you cannot possibly have always the same success, either with regard to your fortune, or your reputation. Depend upon it, that you will find the same competitions, the same jealousies, the same arts and cabals, the emulations of interest and of fame, and the same agitations and passions here, that you have experienced in Italy; and if they have the same effect on your temper, they will have just the same effects on your interestand be your merit what it will, you will never be employed to paint a picture. It

will be the same in London as at Rome, and the same in Paris as in London; for the world is pretty nearly alike in all its parts: nay, though it would perhaps be a little inconvenient to me, I had a thousand times rather you should fix your residence in Rome than here, as I should not then have the mortification of seeing with my own eyes a genius of the first rank lost to the world, himself, and his friends-as I certainly must if you do not assume a manner of acting and thinking here totally dif ferent from what your letters from Rome have described to me. That you have had just subjects of indignation always, and of anger often, I do no ways doubt. Who can live in the world without some trial of his patience? But believe me, my dear Barry, that the arms with which the ill dispositions of the world are to be combated, and the qualities with which it is to be reconciled to us, and we reconciled to it, are moderation, gentleness, a little indulgence to others, and a great deal of distrust of ourselves,-which are not qualities of a mean spirit, as some may possibly think them, but virtues of a great and noble kind, and such as dignify our nature as much as they contribute to our repose and fortune; for nothing can be so unworthy of a well-composed soul as to pass away life in bickerings and litigations -in snarling and scuffling with every one about us. Again and again, my dear Barry, we must be at peace with our species if not for their sakes, yet very much for our own. Think what my feelings must be, from my unfeigned regard to you, and from my wishes that your talents might be of use, when I see what the inevitable consequences must be of your persevering in what has hitherto been your course ever since I knew you, and which will you permit me to trace out to you before-hand. You will come here, you will observe what the artists are doing, and you will sometimes speak a disapprobation in plain words, and sometimes in a no less expressive silence. By degrees you will produce some of your own works. They will be various→ ly criticised; you will defend them; you will abuse those that have attacked you; expostulations, discussions, letters, possibly challenges, will go forward; you will shun your brethren-they will shun you. In the mean time, gentlemen will avoid your friendship for fear of being engaged in your quarrels; you will fall into distresses which will only aggravate your disposition for farther quarrels; you will be obliged, for maintenance, to do any thing for any body; your very talents will de part for want of hope and encouragement; and you will go out of the world fretted, disappointed, and ruined." Vol. i. p. 155.

Barry appears, by his reply, to have felt the full force of the friendship and kindness here expressed; but as it is usual with him, when making acknowledgments of this nature, to en

ter also into a defence of his own conduct, it may fairly be concluded, that he never thought it such as called for the animadversions of his patron. The uniformly good temper, however, with which he bore the advice of his friends, furnishes a convincing proof that his haughty spirit could be softened by kindness and sincerity; indeed, almost all his letters abound in those little traits which discover an affectionate disposition, and a frank and open heart and we cannot but doubt the reports of "the early perfidy" of the man who manifests the sentiments of filial and fraternal affection, contained in the following letter to his parents, vol. i. p. 152.

"My dear Father and Mother! can I believe that my poor brother Jack should die amongst you, and no one think of making me acquainted with it; the satisfaction and hopes you have had from his careful sober conduct and application, which I so often joyed to find in your letters, interested me ten thousand times more about him than his being my brother. Poor Jack! he was the last of the family that I parted from, and amongst the last of those I would part with, and his death has blasted almost all the hopes I had of being useful to the family, as the business he was bred up to, and his sober conduct, gave me great expectations of his being able to put in practice some matters of architecture, which my residence in Italy gave me opportunities of taking notice of; but this is all over, and it seems you have another son remaining, who is of a very different cast; can this be Patrick, and is it possible, that his own future prospect in life, the death of his poor brother, the situation of his parents in their decline, can work no other effects upon him? But this is not all, my father thinks of making his will; what can occasion this? For God's sake, let such of you that are living, my father, mother, my two brothers, (since I have only two), my sister and my uncle John, write their names at least to a letter directed to me at the English coffee-house in Rome, by the return of the post. I leave Rome in the latter end of January, and shall make but a very short stay at Venice, of a fortnight or three weeks, so that if my father writes to me on the receipt of this, I shall either receive it at Rome, or a friend of mine who is here will send it after me.to Venice. My mind has some little ease in seeing that excellent man, Dr Sleigh, interest himself about my father and family. Good God! in how many singular and unthought of ways has the goodness of that gentleman exerted itself towards me. He first put me upon Mr Burke, who has been under God all in all to me; next he had desires of strengthenng my connexion with Mr Stewart, which

is the only construction I could make of the friendly letter which I received from him in London, and afterwards, he is for administering comfort to my poor parents. I land about May next, and I hope there is shall, with the blessing of God, be in Engno need for me to mention to one of my father's experience in the world, how necessary it is to be armed with patience and resignation against those unavoidable strokes of mortality, to which all the world is subject; as we advance in life, we must quit our hold of one thing after another, and since we cannot help it, and that it is a necessary condition of our existence, that ourselves and every thing connected with us, shall be swallowed up in the mass of changes and renovations which we every day see in the world; let us endeavour not to embitter the little of life which is before us, with a too frequent calling to mind of past troubles and misfortunes; and if ever God Almighty is pleased to crown my very sincere and intense application to studies, with any degree of success in the world, I am sure the greatest pleasure that will arise to me from it, will be the consolation it will give my dear father, mother, and friends,-your affectionate son,

J. B."

my

The correspondence between Mr Barry and his early friends, had the same result which terminated every event in which this unfortunate man was concerned. Of the circumstances

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of his disagreement with Mr Burke, we have no knowledge, except that which is derived from a perusal of his works; but if the whole truth be told by the Editor, we are far from agreeing with him, that Mr Burke's share in the dispute, evinces either forbearance or dignified moderation;" on the contrary, we think that there is a soreness and a bitter strain of sarcasm in his letters, utterly uncalled for by the occasion, and sufficiently galling to wound a much less irritable spirit than the writer must have been aware poor Barry possessed; indeed, we are of opinion, that if moderation be shewn on either side, it is on that of the latter. The interest, spirit, and instruction of the epistolary part of the volume before us, terminates with the name of Burke; the subsequent correspondence contains little worthy of notice. Instead of the eloquent and profound observations of that great man, the playful brilliancy and affecthe sound and masculine sense of tionate familiarity of his brother, and Reynolds, we are condemned to wade through the sickening productions of patrons without generosity, and connoisseurs without discrimination; even

Barry himself becomes vapid and trifling, his letters respecting his own works are crowned with egotisms, and never did inordinate appetite for praise appear to such melancholy advantage as in these motley effusions of distempered vanity. Nor is our attention greatly relieved by the sketch of his "genius and learning," with which this part of the work concludes. Barry is unfortunate in every instance, and in few more so than in the who has undertaken to edite person his works. His advocates, indeed, have generally done him more injury than his detractors. The virulence of the latter induces every good and feeling mind to sympathise with the unhappy victim; but the indiscriminate panegyrics of his friends are so extravagant, that they provoke opposition from the excess of their absurdity. It would not be difficult to select many instances of this injudicious conduct, but we shall content ourselves with the following, which will serve to justify our assertions, and prove the utter incompetence of the editor to the task which he has undertaken. To waste a single remark on it, would be to insult at once the taste and understanding of our read

ers.

After observing that it was Barry's "principal object" to supply the deficiencies of Michael Angelo and Raphael in the "beau ideal" of their forms, the editor says,

"Is Barry the artist who has supplied this most important desideratum ? has he approached the perfection of the Greek Antiques, in the beau ideal? He may go farther, and ask, has he, in no instance, improved on that supposed perfection? Any of these questions answered affirmatively, (and they cannot all be denied), will entitle him to rank as a master; by this term is meant an artist who has advanced the progress of his art by his skill and invention; who has advanced a step, and that step an important one; and, whether the writer may be accused of ignorance and presumption or not, he affirms, that neither Michael Angelo, nor Raphael, nor the eminent masters who have followed them, have produced, for truth, science, beauty, character, and expression, any figures that equal, much less excel, the angelic guard, in the picture of Elysium, the youth on horseback, and group of the Diagonides, in the Olympic Games-the three figures of Jupiter. Juno and Mercury, in the picture of Pandora; the Adam and Eve; or, for exquisite ideal beauty in the female form, his Venus, in which, if he has not rivalled the Venus de Medicis, he

has, at least, avoided what he thought a defect in the ideal beauty of that statue, the visible marks of maternity. This exquisite ideal, which, from the Greek statues, he is the first who has transferred on Canvas, was the forté of Barry, for which his scientific and poetic mind amply qualified him; for the mechanic of colouring, though what he has adopted seems always appropriate to his subjects, he is not so famous; but it cannot be said to be defective, unless the tinsel and glare of less accomplished artists should be preferred to it."

Where was this gentleman's prudence, when he consented to expose himself and his departed friend in so lamentable a manner? and in what school did he acquire his notions of art? The figures of Jupiter, Juno, &c. in the picture of Pandora, never surpassed by any production of the two greatest geniuses that ever adorned the art, and the Venus rising from the sea, which many of our readers will remember at Barry's sale in Pall Mall, actually held up as the rival of the Venus de Medicis. The colouring too, of these pictures, together, we presume, with that of the pictures in the Adelphi, cannot be said to be defective!!! Surely this gentleman must have been educated in that part of Germany where, we have been credibly informed, the visual organs are so singularly constructed that they cannot discriminate between red and green, for on no other principle can we account for his extraordinary "ignorance and presumption;" but we will leave him to the enjoyment of his own refined taste and critical discernment.

We have dwelt the longer upon Barry's correspondence, because it conveys a just idea of his characterand to the generality of readers will prove far the most interesting part of his works. With respect to the remainder, it embraces so many subjects, so strangely and incoherently treated, that, with the exception of the "Lectures," and the "Inquiry into the Causes, &c." we shrink from the task of regular investigation. His practical remarks frequently discover strong sense and excellent feeling, but they are commonly insulated, and require sounder intellect and a more methodical hand than Barry possessed, to arrange and turn them to advantage.We proceed to his professional character and opinions. It may appear a bold and hazardous assertion, but it,